Beyond the Boundary
by Alice Twerkland
Summary: Sometimes a giant leap is needed to get to where you want to be in life. Others, it takes but a simple step.


_Author's Note: _I took this down for various reasons, so imma just put it back up for now.

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

There was only one rule the creatures in the Spirit World had to follow: Never show yourself to a human.

The fairies and sprites had no issue with this, as the humans simply saw them as fireflies. Goblins were sneaky and skilled in the art of hiding, and the unicorns simply looked like horses to the untrained eye. Magical creatures didn't often see the allures of the human world, firm in their belief that they were far superior to those beings that didn't posses wings or horns or even an ounce of magic. There were those, however, that were more easily swayed and showed themselves willingly, and if anyone were to fall prey to humans, all mythical creatures agreed that it would be the foxes.

The fox spirits were once called _kitsune, _figures of Japanese folklore, though nowadays that term is only used amongst the creatures themselves, and the few mortals that still believe in magic. Their legacy may have started in Japan, but the _kitsune _themselves lived all throughout the world; America, England, you name it. The spirits were there. They could disguise themselves as people at will, though if they ever left the safety of their enchanted forests, they would lose their powers forever and turn into humans. The _kitsune _lived peacefully for many centuries without hardship, but when the humans started to encroach on their territory more and more, the foxes were faced with a choice: stay and risk being killed or learn to live with the humans.

Some left the sanctuary of their forests and lived out the rest of their lives as humans. "If man are destroying our homes, we'll be forced out eventually!" The younger foxes would say before disappearing, never to be seen again. Those who left were few in number, for the unrest first started back in the seventeenth century, when there wasn't much talk of leaving to live with humans. The _kitsune _and their offspring were firm in their beliefs, and adhering to the ways of human society was considered shameful.

As the years wore on, things began to change. Human society evolved far beyond that of the _kitsune, _and the mortal world and the strange machinery within it began to appeal to more and more of the foxes. Desertion became common, so much so that it was no longer frowned upon, and the only creatures that remained in the forests were the eldest generations of _kitsune_, the fay and the pixies, and a whole other assortment of mythical beings, the likes of which humans no longer believed in.

By the time the twenty-first century rolled around, _kitsune _were merely stories, though they were still very much real. They were most densely populated in the United Kingdom and Japan, though there was a remaining enchanted forest in North America, one that had withstood all the expansion. A little over a hundred _kitsune _lived there, most of which over five thousand years of age, though there were adolescents, foxes that only had one tail compared to the multitude that their elders had.

One such fox was only six hundred years old when he met a human for the first time. He had never been a creature that the older foxes worried about. Unlike many of his ilk, the young _kitsune _didn't find the human world interesting, nor had he any desire to see it for himself. He preferred to run and play with the fairies and listen to their gossip, and longed for no other life than the one he'd been given. He was proud to be a fox spirit and was firm in his resolve, so the allures of the human world had no hold over him.

He was chasing after a butterfly when he heard a cry from the southern edge of the forest. Curious, he veered off his path and weaved through the thorn and berry bushes that circled the outer perimeter, the ones placed there by his fairy friends many years ago in hopes to give the humans no reason or means to enter the forest on their own. The young fox knew all the escape tunnels in the area, so he didn't feel threatened when he saw a human child sitting near one of the thorn bushes.

He'd heard talk of a family of humans that had built a cabin just outside the woods, the only ones who had dared to live up on the mountain in nearly a century, and the fox had been curious about them for quite some time. This must have been the child his parents had mentioned. Her crying was high-pitched and hurt the fox's sensitive ears, though something about her fascinated him, so he continued to crawl forward, ignoring the fairies twittering nervously around him.

The girl looked young, probably no older than five or six in human years, and her hair was blonde, about the same color as the fox's fur, though just a shade darker. Her eyes were a clear blue, reminding the fox of the river that ran just outside his den; they were certainly running as the river did. The fox smelled blood in the air past the salt of her tears, and from the child's close proximity to the bushes, he could only assume she'd gotten too close and had pricked herself with a thorn.

The fox waited, looking out for any sign of the girl's parents, though they never came, and as her cries became louder, the fox's anxiety over the situation grew. He had a little sister back at the den, barely two hundred years old, and he never liked when she was in pain. The feeling was similar as he watched the human girl, and while in the back of his mind he knew it wasn't the logical thing to do, he poked his head out of the bushes.

The girl spotted him immediately. She didn't stop crying, though she also didn't look frightened as the fox looked at her, sniffling quietly to herself while the _kitsune _hesitated, building up his nerve before leaning closer, being careful not to step out of the bush. He sniffed over the girl's body, found the wound on the palm of her hand, pulled the thorn out with his teeth, and gave the skin a tentative lick. He shrunk back immediately after, pleased with his efforts when the flesh wound began to close. The girl was none the wiser, shimmering azure eyes fixated firmly on him as she leaned forward, arms outstretched, all pain completely forgotten. "Kitty."

"Amelia!" A voice called from the cabin, and the fox bolted back into the safety of the trees, where the fairies descended upon him, tugging at his ears and tail and scolding him for his rash decision. The fox paid them no mind and instead bolted up the path leading toward the heart of the forest, where the rest of his ilk were, though the taste of that girl's palm refused to leave him to his peace for months after the incident.

* * *

He saw Amelia many times over the next two years, though to a fox spirit with eternal life, it felt like a few days. No matter how hard he tried to forget about her, the girl just wouldn't leave him to his peace. She was the one who made it hard, as loud and obnoxious as she was, storming around outside and screeching and laughing as if no one was trying to sleep beyond the trees. Amelia grew like a weed, and by the time she and the fox finally met again, she was eight years old and capable enough to walk steadily on her own two feet.

The fox was sitting in his usual tree, legs tucked neatly underneath him as he watched Amelia kick a ball around outside her cabin. She'd been doing that a lot lately, playing outside with that ball and yelling encouragements to herself every so often, and while the fox would never admit to it, he actually found the behavior amusing. On that day, Amelia kicked the ball too hard and it ended up bouncing over the thorn and berry bushes and into the forest. The fox watched the ball roll for a few moments before glancing up to find Amelia peering over the shrubs, trying to find her ball without moving any closer.

He wasn't sure if Amelia remembered that day when he healed her wound, though she never tried to go past the barrier after that. Not that she could have – the fairies were much too thorough in their work – but sometimes the fox wondered what would happen if she were to see his home for herself. Would she like it? The fox glanced around, and when he didn't find any fairies lurking about, he flicked his tail. The bushes began to part, and Amelia blinked in surprise when a path was suddenly opened up to her, leading straight to her ball, which was underneath the fox's tree.

The human girl crept forward slowly, glancing around in a way that reminded the fox of his mother, who often did the same when entering a new area. Amelia's blue eyes were alight with wonder as she gazed around the enchanted forest and at the flowers that grew year-round – it was autumn in the human world at that time. The fox watched her with an odd feeling of satisfaction, though he knew he would be in trouble if anyone were to find out that he had let a human into the forest. Amelia jogged forward to pick up her ball, and the fox expected her to leave after that, but she didn't. Instead, in a move that the fox couldn't explain or place a reason to, the girl looked up.

The fox bristled when Amelia's eyes landed on him, and though his heart was beating with panic, the girl was smiling. "Hey." She said slowly, recognition starting to fill her eyes and voice. "I remember you."

The _kitsune _remained still. Humans weren't supposed to be able to see him in the forest unless he was the one choosing to be seen, like when he healed her when she was a child. This girl... she couldn't possibly...

"Yeah, you were the fox that licked my hand and made it better." She continued, glancing down at her palm. "How did you do that? I always wondered, but I never saw you again."

So, the girl was insane, then, talking to animals as if they were humans themselves; and the fox had _let _her into his forest. His parents were going to skin him alive. "Do you talk?" Amelia called, and the fox stiffened. "I met a horse with a horn a little while after we moved here, and I talked with her. Can all animals do that, or was it just her?"

"You have The Sight." The fox said, and Amelia jumped. "I should've known. Something always felt strange about you."

"Strange?" She sounded wounded. "I've always been able to talk to animals."

"Have you told anyone about this?"

"My mom and dad. They didn't think it was weird."

"They must be humoring you, then. If I were human, I'd think you were off your rocker." The fox said, pushing himself to his feet hastily. He had to tell the others that there was a human with The Sight around. They would all have to be extra careful, or the girl might see too much and tell others of their existence.

"Are you going?" Amelia asked, and the fox must have been imagining how disappointed she sounded.

"Do I have any reason to stay?"

"We could play!" She exploded, rocking on her heels enthusiastically. "I've never played with a fox before."

"Aren't you afraid I have diseases?" The fox asked tonelessly. "Rabies? What makes you think I want to play with a little brat like you?"

Amelia blinked, tilting her head to one side. "Well, you healed me. You licked my hand and made it better. If you were sick, wouldn't I be now, too? And I see you up in that tree all the time. You look lonely. So, why not play with me?"

The fox didn't have an excuse for that one.

He didn't leave his tree, though he spent the rest of the afternoon talking with Amelia. She was as loud up close as she was from afar, chattering nonstop in a way that left the fox physically exhausted. She sat down at the base of the tree and leaned her back against it, tossing the ball around in her hands as she talked about nothing and everything. "What's your name?"

"I don't have one." _Kitsune _didn't receive their names until they'd lived one thousand years, when they received their second tail and proved that they could resist the allure of the human world. Most of his friends were nameless, though his closest confident had received his name only the previous year, and strutted around calling himself "Francis" all the time as if the name wasn't as ridiculous as it sounded. He and Francis squabbled like enemies most of the time. It was a wonder they were even friends at all.

"You don't have a name?" Amelia gasped, horrified. "That's horrible! Can I give you one?"

"No."

"How come?"

"No one wants to be named by an eight-year-old, and I'm no exception."

Amelia came back every day after that. The fox only knew because he came back as well, sitting up in that tree and opening a path for Amelia when she approached the bushes. After that first encounter, the fox never told his ilk about Amelia. He'd started to tell his mother, but the words wouldn't leave his throat no matter how hard he tried, and she'd thought him ill, so he stopped trying. He couldn't tell them about Amelia. He enjoyed her company despite himself, and he wanted to indulge in that for a little while longer. He knew it was dangerous, taboo even, but the girl was interesting. She had The Sight, and who knew if the fox would ever meet someone like her ever again? No, he would wait to tell someone. Amelia wasn't doing them any harm.

Two weeks after they started speaking, Amelia came home from school more excited than usual. "Guess what?" She said, wearing only a green tank top once she shed her winter coat, along with jeans, and sneakers. There was snow on the ground outside the forest, though it felt and looked like spring on the inside. The fairies created an allusion so the forest appeared to be covered in snow to the humans, though Amelia had learned by now that the weather there was constantly fair.

"Do tell." The fox replied. He was on the forest floor now, having grown comfortable enough to leave the safety of the branches, though he kept a safe distance. Thankfully, Amelia seemed to sense his reluctance and didn't attempt to move closer, instead choosing to sit by the tree, just as she always did. "I'm simply dying with curiosity."

"I've decided to call you Arthur."

The fox flicked his tail. "I do remember telling you that I have no name nor do I want one."

"We learned about King Arthur in school today." Amelia babbled on, unfazed by the fox's lack of enthusiasm. "The holy sword Excalibur and all that. I think Arthur's a good name. Don't you like it?"

The fox wrapped his tail around his paws, looking away from Amelia's intense gaze when it all became too much. "I suppose it's... not terrible."

From that point on, she started calling him Arthur. It was odd at first, especially since he had gone nameless for so long and the title hadn't been given to him by his parents on his 1,000th birthday; but no matter how much he griped and groaned when Amelia called him that, he began to like it over time, and in his head, when Francis boasted about his name, the fox would think that the one Amelia gave to him was far superior. It was the name of a king, after all.

* * *

Arthur continued his secret rendezvous with Amelia for many years, though it became troublesome when her brain inevitably grew as she did. She became more aware, intelligent, and suddenly it wasn't normal that she was speaking to a fox with blond fur and green eyes. She started asking questions, though they were innocent enough at first. "I tried talking to a dog I saw around town earlier." Amelia said one day. She was twelve then, Arthur six-hundred and six, and Amelia had taken to pulling him into her lap while they were together by that time, stroking her hand up and down the length of his spine while Arthur tried to ignore how domestic the whole thing was. "He just kinda stared at me. Why do you think he didn't say anything?"

It sounded as if she were fishing for something, though Arthur didn't know what. "Perhaps it wasn't intelligent." He replied. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit more advanced than a simple house pet."

"You're the smartest animal I know, Artie." Amelia said warmly, and it was in that moment that Arthur realized he hadn't seen any fairies in a while. They always seemed to disappear whenever he was with Amelia. "Almost like a human."

Amelia seemed to live a different life when she wasn't in the forest with Arthur. The adolescent fox watched from the trees as the girl had friends over after school, saw them laughing through the glass windows of the cabin and looked on when they played in the yard. Amelia never tried to guide them over to the forest and deterred them from going any further if someone were to stray too close, and it was by watching her in her own world that Arthur realized he'd grown attached to the girl. She was no longer just a source of entertainment for him. Amelia was gone for one reason or another and he found himself missing her and her obnoxious laughter and toothy grin. His _kitsune _friends were never as amusing as she was, and he doubted they ever would be.

It was hard, being friends with a human. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many places he wanted to show her, but he knew he couldn't. Even if Arthur was breaking one of the most sacred rules of his kind, Amelia didn't know that he was a _kitsune. _She knew that he and the forest he lived in were different, but she could never explain why she felt that way. As they both grew older, the differences between them became more apparent, and there came a time when Arthur began to wonder if he'd done the right thing by letting her into the forest all those years ago.

It was around the time she started to smell different, when she was fourteen and the clothes she wore started to become less conservative. She entered the forest one day and scooped Arthur up into her arms without saying anything, and the fox squirmed about in her hold, hissing irritably. "I'm not one of your stuffed toys, Amelia!"

"We were learning about Japanese folklore in English today."

Arthur stilled. Damn that literature class of hers. "And?"

Amelia began to circle their tree, kicking through patches of clover listlessly as she held Arthur as she might a cat or a small dog. "There are these... spirits. They can do magic and disguise themselves as humans if they want to." She trailed off, and Arthur tucked his nose into the crook of her arm, closing his eyes and waiting for the moment when everything ended. "They're foxes, though they're more intelligent than normal. And they're called—"

"_Kitsune._" Arthur murmured, effectively cutting the girl off. "Yes, I'm quite familiar with the tale."

"When we first met, you said I had 'The Sight.'" Amelia continued, and she scratched behind the fox's ear gently. "What does that mean?"

"It means you can see things most humans can't." Arthur said, and he leapt nearly ten feet out of Amelia's arms and straight into the branches above, if only to demonstrate to Amelia that her suspicions were correct. He wasn't a normal fox. "The supernatural cannot fool you, Amelia. You shouldn't have been able to see me the day we started talking. I was cloaked with magic, yet you saw through it all."

"My teacher said the fox spirits have multiple tails."

"Only those who have lived more than one thousand years. I've been alive for less, so I only have one."

Amelia was staring up at Arthur as if seeing him for the first time, and the fox tired to ignore the unsettled feeling in his stomach as he waved his tail and opened up a path through the bushes. "You should go." He said when she whipped her head around to stare at the opening. "I apologize for having deceived you."

"Wait!" She cried when he started to turn, bunching his muscles in preparation to leap into the neighboring tree. "Where are you going? I'm sorry, did I upset you? I wasn't going to bring it up, but... I've always wondered, Artie."

"I wasn't supposed to tell you about what I am." He said. "Your world and mine, they aren't supposed to collide, Amelia. People like you are bridges, sure, but it's dangerous for a human to know our secrets. It would be best if we didn't see each other again."

"I won't say anything, if that's what you're worried about." She sounded as if she was about to cry. She'd been very emotional lately, not so much her exuberant self, and it worried Arthur. Along with her odd smell, she'd been getting taller and thicker. She was growing as all humans did, but to Arthur, she was still that little girl who cried over a simple injury caused by a thorn bush. "I just... you're my best friend, Artie. I don't care if you're a spirit. I don't want you to go away. Please?"

It was all kinds of wrong. Arthur had abandoned all reason many years ago, but he'd always stayed firm in his resolve to never tell Amelia about what he was. His family meant too much to him, his parents and older brothers and younger sister, and even if he and Amelia were friends, Arthur doubted he would have ever said anything had she not figured it out first. He should have left Amelia right there. He should have made her leave, closed the bushes and never let her back in again. It was too dangerous, too risky, but he was in way too deep to back out.

Amelia kept coming back, and Arthur kept letting her in.

* * *

His ilk began to notice his change. He wasn't as carefree, didn't run with the fairies as much, and was even more snappish and pensive than usual. He and Francis fought to the point of drawing blood on a few occasions, though _kitsune _blood created life, didn't destroy, so the hollow in which all the _kitsune_ lived was suddenly bright with marigold flowers. His mother worried and his father said not to, his brothers teased him and bit his ears and his sister curled close to him in the night. Arthur's thoughts always seemed to be ruled by Amelia and her way of life, no longer his own. Since when had he wanted the life of a human?

Around the time her father died - cancer, some human illness Arthur had never heard of before in all his years - she began to withdraw into herself. She would sit out on her terrace and draw or do homework, sometimes glancing into the trees, though she hardly approached unless it was a Saturday or Sunday. Arthur would watch from the trees whenever she started to cry, knowing he couldn't go to her.

Yes, humans died, didn't they? It had somehow slipped his notice in all the years he'd known Amelia. Humans were so fragile. They thought they owned the world and yet they were the ones that so often fell victim to it. Someday, Amelia was going to grow old, and she would pass on while Arthur continued to live an eternal life as if he hadn't known her at all.

When Arthur recognized the painful throbbing in his chest, he realized why immortal beings shouldn't form bonds with humans.

Everything came to a head one day toward the end of the summer. Arthur hadn't seen Amelia in days, and her absence was starting to affect his mood. "He's been acting odd lately." Francis was saying to Arthur's sister for some reason. Arthur had always had the feeling that the two would end up as mates someday. All the _kitsune _were gathering in the hollow, and while the young fox was certain something important was happening, he couldn't quite recall what. "Or more so than usual. He's a downright pain to be around. Honestly, I don't see how you stand to be around him anymore - "

"Arthur." Arthur said in annoyance. "My name is Arthur."

There was silence. He realized his voice was much louder than he'd intended it to be when all the other _kitsune_ turned to look at him. His ears flattened against his head. To them, he was supposed to be nameless, for he only had one tail; but Arthur had come to hate how he felt amongst his ilk, as if he was only a nameless young _kitsune_ with no true importance in the community. Outside the hollow, he was Amelia's best friend, he was Arthur, and it was becoming more and more difficult to have to make the transition between the two worlds.

His mother and father exchanged a look before staring down at their paws, and Arthur realized he'd made a grave error when the Elder took a step forward. She was a large, black fox with nine tails, as many as a _kitsune _could have, and her red eyes were intense as she advanced on Arthur. "The fairies told us many years ago that you made acquaintance with a human girl." She said, and Arthur shrunk to the ground, trembling in his fur. He'd always wondered how no one had found him out. The fairies were everywhere, and they loved to gossip. "I suggested we wait to see how you would handle the temptation. Tell me, do you know my name?"

Arthur gawked at her. Her face and voice was as familiar to him as his own, yet he couldn't recall a name for her. The fox nodded slightly to herself. "What about your parents' names? Or your older brothers'? Can you say but even one?"

Unable to do anything else, he shook his head.

"You are very confused indeed." The Elder concluded, though she sounded calm; sympathetic, even. Arthur couldn't imagine why. The other _kitsune _were beginning to hiss and spit at him. "Did your human friend give you the name Arthur?"

"Yes." He replied quietly. "She said it was a name of a king in a human legend."

"Go out into the forest, child." She said, leaning down to touch her nose gently to Arthur's. "I think you need a moment to clear your head."

Her voice was firm, so Arthur had no other choice but to leave the hollow quietly, shaking from head to tail, trying to force himself to remember the names of his parents. Everything was overrun by thoughts of Amelia. Her father's name was David and her mother's name was Caroline. She had a younger half-sister named Madeline who lived with her own mother in some place called Vermont, though Amelia only saw her once or twice a year. Amelia was a straight A student, she wanted to be a painter, and she'd never been kissed by a human boy.

The fox found himself at the edge of the forest, standing just a hairs length away from the boundary that separated his world from Amelia's. He had to tell her that everything had to stop, that he was losing himself because she was quickly becoming more important than anything else in his life. It was dark out by then, the starts twinkling brightly in a way they only could on a mountain. The fairies Arthur hadn't seen in so long were flying about outside the forest - they were lucky, they could come and go as they pleased without worry of being discovered - and they told the fox to turn and go back to the hollow, but he didn't listen.

Arthur wondered if he would have to wait until morning for Amelia until the porch light turned on and suddenly she was there.

She stepped out of the cabin her father and his friends had built for their family, her blonde hair falling around her shoulders in ringlets and her eyes narrowed in confusion as she stared at the fox hovering near the bushes. "Arthur?" She called, stepping out onto the grass slowly, gripping her elbows as a wind bore down on the valley. She eyed the fairies warily as she maneuvered around them. "Is that you? Man, it's been a really long time since we've seen each other, huh?"

Arthur stared at her. She'd changed so much since that first day, in more ways than one. She'd always be Amelia Jones, but she would never again be the young girl who didn't understand the power she possessed or talked to a fox like that was a normal, everyday thing. She used to be so innocent and naïve. She would have remained oblivious to Arthur's inner turmoil and continued to move closer, not stop just a few feet shy of Arthur and watch him nervously as she was doing then. "Artie? What's wrong?"

"I can't remember my parents' names."

She blinked in confusion, her mouth opening and closing a few times like a fish out of water. "Huh?"

Arthur shook his head. "Now that I think about it, I can't remember much of anything about the _kitsune._"

"Well, your mom's name is Bryony, right? And your dad - "

She broke off with a startled gasp as Arthur took a step forward, leaving the sanctuary of the forest for the first time ever. Arthur found himself taller than her for only a split second, before he was stumbling and Amelia was catching him, staggering under the force of his weight. "If a fox spirit leaves his forest with no intention of returning, he loses his powers forever and turns into a human, forgetting everything about the life he once lived." He said, lifting one of his hands to his face, wiggling his five fingers, forgetting if they had ever looked any different. It was cold, suddenly. Was he wearing clothes? "I suppose it wasn't just a story."

"Why?" Amelia demanded, her voice strained as she readjusted her stance to help better support them both. Arthur could only imagine how heavy he was, but he couldn't force his legs to move, almost as if he didn't know _how _to move them. "Why did you - _Artie - "_

"I couldn't remember anything about my world, but I remembered _everything_ about yours." Arthur interrupted her, and he felt as if he might cry as he looked up to meet her gaze. He'd just lost something but couldn't remember what. His thoughts were slipping through his fingers like sand. "Amelia - "

She removed her arms from around his waist to wrap them around his neck instead, hugging him tightly as they both fell to the grass. "You idiot." She said fiercely, and Arthur was struck by the feeling of her body pressed against his, fabric to bare skin. He couldn't even hold her in return. He didn't know how; but he knew Amelia, so it was okay. "You _idiot._"

A pair of red eyes watched the two from the trees, though Arthur was too mesmerized by the fireflies floating above and around them to notice.


End file.
